


we can just watch the whole world disappear

by dephinecormier



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:52:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9572387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dephinecormier/pseuds/dephinecormier
Summary: “I’m so tired of this.”Maria pauses, hand hovering in the air as she looks down at Natasha, realises just how small the woman in front of her truly is without the bravado of the Black Widow mantle behind her. She studies the dark circles under her eyes and wonders how she never saw it before. “Tired of what?” she finally speaks, her question hanging in the air as Natasha meets her eyes, weariness seeping out from her pores.“Of this, of running, of...of everything,” she whispers, voice cracking before she turns away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Femslash February with prompts chosen from a list that [ mindfullofstories ](http://mindfullofstories.tumblr.com/) sent.

Natasha feels the sharp pain of the bullet wound as she knocks her opponent unconscious and pushes herself off the ground, pressing a hand to the wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Maria’s apartment is the closest, she thinks, the edges of the world blending into a fuzzy, soft blur of streetlights as she pushes herself to walk.

One foot in front of the other. Just like she had always done - not too different to her days in the Red Room - always running, chasing her death, but clinging so desperately to life.

She breaks into the apartment, dropping heavily into the room through the window. The apartment is dark, no signs of activity within it. She drags herself to the bathroom, searches for the medical kit and strips, wincing as pain radiates through her side. She’s in the middle of disinfecting the wound when she hears the door creak open and light footsteps coming through the doorway before there is silence. Then the telltale click of the safety disengaging.

She puts the bottle of disinfectant down and waits, watches as Maria rounds the corner and stares into the muzzle of the gun. “Damn it, Romanoff,” she vaguely registers as Maria swears, clicking the safety of the gun back on again.

Maria’s eyes land on the bloodied surgical gloves and takes in the medical kit lying on the countertop. “Sorry I didn’t call ahead,” Natasha says, gesturing at the medical kit, “I was sort of preoccupied.” As Natasha reaches into the medical kit, Maria’s hands land on top of hers, stilling them. She looks up in surprise, wondering when she had managed to cross the room.

“Here, let me,” Maria says gently before shedding her blazer and pushing up her sleeves. “Sit,” she nods towards the small space on the countertop and frowns as Natasha pushes herself up with a groan. Maria washes her hands, pulls on gloves and pokes at the bullet wound. “Lucky miss,” she comments, examining it. “Didn’t hit any vital organs but you definitely need stitches,” she says as she pulls out the necessary supplies, tending to the wound.

Natasha ignores the ache as Maria starts to extract the bullet, focusing on the way Maria’s fringe falls into her blue eyes as she sweeps them impatiently away with her arm and the way Maria’s hands brushes against her skin, the warmth of her fingertips noticeable as they move deftly, despite the surgical gloves forming a barrier between them.

She barely has time to look away before Maria catches her staring, as Maria finishes the last stitch, tying them off neatly. She glances into the mirror, avoiding her gaze as Maria snaps the gloves off. “And those are done,” Maria says as she straightens up and chucks the gloves in the bin. “God knows how long those stitches will last before you come back for new ones,” she snorts moving back closer to Natasha, eyes cataloguing the rest of Natasha’s injuries, tilting Natasha’s face as she inspects the cut on her forehead.

“How the hell do you keep getting these injuries anyway?” Maria asks, not expecting an answer.

“I have enemies,” Natasha replies simply, “And when SHIELD fell and my face was broadcasted all across the world -” she trails off, knowing that Maria would understand without her having to complete the rest of the sentence.

And truth was that this had been coming for a long time now. She had always been running from something - government agencies, the Red Room, all the enemies she had made over the years, her past. Always running, able to leave everything behind, like a shadow never to be found. The Black Widow was nothing but a legend after all, not a trace to be found, only a name whispered fearfully into the night, a warning. But now her face was splashed on the front of newspapers, on TV channels and everyone knew who she was. There was no taking that back now.

She barely notices Maria cautiously applying butterfly stitches to the cut, watching her carefully from the corner of her eye before she blurts it out.

“I’m so tired of this.”

Maria pauses, hand hovering in the air as she looks down at Natasha, realises just how small the woman in front of her truly is without the bravado of the Black Widow mantle behind her. She studies the dark circles under her eyes and wonders how she never saw it before. “Tired of what?” she finally speaks, her question hanging in the air as Natasha meets her eyes, weariness seeping out from her pores.

“Of this, of running, of...of everything,” she whispers, voice cracking before she turns away. The silence becomes unbearable and her skin tingles, throat crawling uncomfortably as she realises that she’s said too much, become too vulnerable, her mind screaming at her to run. She pushes herself off the countertop, landing close to Maria and hates the way her heart urges her to stay, urges her to let Maria finish tending to her wounds, to let herself be cared for for once.

“I should go,” she mutters, turning and striding out of the bathroom. She hears footsteps behind her and a soft hand grips around her wrist, gentle enough to break out of, but she stops in her tracks anyway, unable to move.

“Stay, please, at least until I’m done” she hears Maria speak, not quite comprehending the words and allows herself be led back, allows Maria’s hands to brush tenderly across her cheekbones before finishing the butterfly stitches.

Because maybe - just for tonight - she could stop running and just be. Instead of leaving, maybe she could stay - Maria’s presence, steady and solid beside her, grounding her, the eye of the hurricane where everything is still and quiet. Just for this moment, she thinks, as she slips on the clothes Maria passes her and follows her to bed, pressing herself back into Maria’s body and feels her hand circle her waist, a comforting weight. Just for tonight, she thinks, her heart beating hopefully.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written pretty quickly and it's only been beta-ed once by me so if you spot any errors, comment down below and I'll change it. Thoughts about the fic and constructive criticisms would be greatly appreciated :) You can find me at [dephinecormier](http://dephinecormier.tumblr.com/)


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